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“Wait. Thirteen cakes are really waiting for me at home?” This man, this miraculous god of a man, had just delivered heaven to my house. He could just as easily be the devil himself. I snickered. “I have a fitting tomorrow.”
“So?”
“So…nothing.” The fact that he didn’t see a problem made me fall for him even more. “I seriously love you.”
“Ah, you see?” Chef Dubois cheered. “You are happy, so your groom is happy.”
“Amen to that.” I dusted the crumbs off my clothes and stood. People hugged their bakers, right? Screw it. I flung my arms around the pudgy man and—oh my, he smelled like childhood and world peace and cupcakes. “Thank you. This was the best day ever!”
He laughed and patted my head, which only made me love him more.
On the drive home, I couldn’t stop smiling. And every time Hale glanced at me, he chuckled.
“You know how some couples finish each other’s sentences?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“We’re not like that. We’re totally opposite, but you know what?”
“What?”
“You get me more than anyone else in this world.”
His fingers laced with mine and he squeezed. “I just like to see you happy.”
Lifting his hand, I kissed his knuckles. “You make me happy. Very, very happy.”
As soon as we got home I started packing but before I even organized my underwear my phone buzzed.
“Hello,” I answered, still on a pleasant sugar high.
“Meyers,” Remington’s brisk voice wailed over the line. “Those pigeons are back. They shit all over my car. Get down here with something to clean it up.”
“Remington, it’s Sunday.”
“Exactly. Alphonse is off.”
“So am I.”
“Meyers, don’t piss me off.” He was especially prickly and looking to punish me, probably for taking all his cigarettes.
“Fine. But you’re going to have to wait until I wrap up what I’m doing.”
“Good enough.” He hung up and I frowned. “That was weird.”
I only had so much winter clothes, so it didn’t take long for me to finish packing. When I carried my suitcase downstairs I stuck it by the door. “I have to go to your dad’s.”
Hale looked up from the couch where he sat with Elara. “For what?”
“Something about bird shit.”
He scowled. “Tell him to handle it himself. It’s your day off.”
“It’ll be easier to just go over there. I won’t be long.” I kissed his cheek then Elara’s head. Ah, the fancy life of a glorified assistant.
It was easier to walk down the beach to get to Remington’s than to drive this time of day, so I left through the back. The lights of the guesthouse were on so I assumed Andrew was home and enjoying his night off.
When I reached Remington’s house, I braced for his usual cigarette-withdrawal pleasantness. Last time I was there I threatened to muzzle him with a nicotine patch right over his mouth.
